


Relentless

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: What happens when you tease Dean Winchester into a corner?





	1. The Big Tease

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Dean. Was. Relentless.

 

Sam had no idea how he was doing it or how he wasn’t making himself crazy because Dean was driving Sam mad. 

 

It had been two weeks since the afternoon at the diner. They had disposed of the water demon and were looking for the next bad thing. Dean wasn’t really inventive, but somehow he didn’t have to be.

 

Every time he walked past Sam he touched him.

 

And not touched him in a whoops-sorry-man-didn’t-see-you-there kind of way but in a wait-till-I-get-you-alone kind of way. The gentle caress of Dean’s fingers across his forearm reaching for the ketchup, the brush of his shoulder passing on the way to the bathroom, the crush of his thigh in restaurant booths; all too long for accidental collisions, but too short for any satisfaction. 

 

So Sam jerked off. 

 

Sam repeatedly found himself in the bathroom or shower, eyes closed as he imagined every inch of Dean’s skin, every sound from Dean’s lips, the smell, the taste of Dean’s skin. He tried every time to touch himself the way Dean did, but their hands were too different, the angle, the twist, he could never manage it and it left him even more frustrated than when he began. 

 

Sam was really pissed at himself that he had gotten himself into the most amazing relationship that any person could pray for let alone an awkward sixteen year old and here he was, back to jacking off.

 

Stupid.

 

He should just apologize, he thought. Just go right up to him and say sorry for . . . for what? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just having fun and Dean just needed to get over it. Sam Winchester may not have invented it, but he had mastered passive aggressive.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean didn’t get it.

 

Seriously, how was Sam actually managing to stand this? Dean could hardly stand it and he was old enough to supposedly have some control. So why was he sneaking off to the bathroom any chance he could get. 

 

Was it really worth his own personal aggravation to teach Sam a lesson? It wasn’t as if Dean didn’t enjoy Sam’s little peep show in the back seat or really, really enjoy Sam making up for his peep show. So honestly why didn’t Dean just say lesson learned and go grab a piece of that sweet ass?

 

Because Dean Winchester just doesn’t give in. 

 

Time to turn up the heat, Dean thought. But first things first. Dean made his way to the bathroom and let the stinging cold water do its thing.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean seemed to take more showers than Sam remembered, or maybe Sam just hadn’t really noticed until now. Sam wasn’t stupid though and he did know that Dean didn’t usually come out of the shower quite so wet having to take his towel off to finish drying himself . . . slowly, his half hard cock bobbing there invitingly. No, Sam knew that was all there just for him. And all the while, John sat at the table or on the bed or in the chair reading or writing or sleeping. No so involved that he would notice Dean’s obscenely long drying sessions, but he certainly would notice Sam jumping Dean right there in the same room.

 

Dean slid past Sam on the way to his bag. “Suck your cock?” He asked in a barely there whisper.

 

“What?!” Came Sam’s desperate, startled response, about an octave too high and ten decibels too loud.

 

“Something wrong Sam?” John asked, startled from his forty winks.

 

Sam swallowed hard, his cock already interested in Dean’s suggestion. “No. Sorry Dad,” Sam scowled at his brother. “I just thought Dean said something.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It wasn’t just the teasing; Sam had been ready for that. 

 

Dean was making sure that John never left them alone.

 

They were between hunts; there was no way that Dean could pull this off if they were on a job because John always split them up for any number of things but with nothing to hunt, John just stuck around. Dean volunteered to go everywhere with him even talking him into it if necessary.

 

“Well boys, I have to go on a supply run. You all right here by yourselves?” John asked. Sam’s eyes lit up like Christmas at Rockefeller thinking that they could finally fight or fuck this out. Either way, Sam needed to release something.

 

“Why don’t we all go together Dad?” Dean asked.

 

“What?” John chuckled. “Don’t you usually bitch about having to do the supply run?”

 

“Yea, but that’s because I have to do it alone.” Dean shrugged, with a chuckle, giving himself time to think. “It’s different if I’ve got someone to go along.”

 

John shrugged. “Then take your brother.” Sam was nodding furiously from behind his father. What in the nine rings of hell was Dean playing at?

 

“Come on Dad.” Dean smiled. “When’s the last time we spent any time together when we weren’t trying to kill something?”

 

Something in Dean’s voice touched John and he relented. “All right boys, let’s go.” He pulled on a jacket, no journal, and no books. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll buy you ice cream.” He smiled over his shoulder. 

 

Sam held back so that Dean had to turn to look for him. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

 

“You wanted to play a game Sammy, I’m playing a game.”

 

“What happens when I don’t want to play anymore Dean?” Sam grabbed his jacket and threw a shoulder into his brother, just a little too hard. “What then?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Days followed on top of each other and Dean didn’t let up. Every time he could pass closely by Sam’s ear he would whisper some obscene suggestion and dear God they were getting obscene. 

 

“Drink you down.”

“Fuck you with my tongue.”

“Bend you over this table.”

“Blow, fuck, suck, lick (take your pick) on the hood of the car.”

 

It really was kind of amazing how fast Dean could talk when he wanted to get Sam going. 

 

But then, uncharacteristically, Dean overplayed his hand. He came out of the shower and leaned in real close. His tongue reached out and trailed up the shell of Sam’s ear. “Gonna bury myself, balls deep in your ass Sam.” Sam swallowed hard and his head dropped back against Dean’s bare shoulder and he startled. Dean was freezing. 

 

And then Sam knew. 

 

Dean wasn’t just taking showers to parade nude in front of Sam, they were cold and that meant only one thing. Dean wasn’t quite as strong as he thought he was.

 

And Sam smiled.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Shit! Dean thought.

 

Sam turned to him, not with the jelly legs and clammy sweats that Dean wanted, but with cold steely determination. Dean had made a grave tactical error and changed the game from siege to prolonged land battle. 

 

Shit!

 

Time to turn up the heat another 10. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It was still unseasonably warm so Dean went without a shirt. Dean never went without a shirt, no matter how hot it got, but still, not something Dad’s going to question. But every time John’s back was turned, Dean would flex his muscles or caress his chest or tweak his nipples, anything as long as Sammy was watching. 

 

And believe it, Sammy was still watching but much as he enjoyed the show, he filled his mind with any number of the gory, horrible things they had seen over the years to avoid showing Dean any of what he was really feeling. He would always take his eyeful and then turn from Dean in aloof disinterest.

 

Then there was one night they were all watching TV, Dean had a shirt on, thank God, but as soon as he caught Sam’s eye he pushed his Tee up just high enough to give a peek at that toned, tanned belly before he unsnapped the top button of his jeans. Sam watched, transfixed as Dean slid his fingers down into the waistband of his jeans. 

 

John was not ten feet away, so Sam knew that there was no way Dean was going to get his whole hand in there for any real action, but what the hell was he going to do? And then Sam realized that he was wrong to ever underestimate Dean’s determination to fuck with his little brother. Dean somehow snaked that big hand into those tight jeans to squeeze and palm himself. Sam couldn’t say anything, didn’t want to say anything, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from this show.

 

Sam watched as his brother’s eyes glazed over and a thin sheen of sweat began to form. Damn it, Sam thought, of all times for Dean to leave his shirt on because Sam realized that he really did want to see that sweat glistening on his brother’s chest. 

 

Dean sighed and ran his tongue across that fat bottom lip as his eyes slid shut and Sam was fairly certain that he was going to blow a load in his drawers before Dean did, but Sam hadn’t lost sight of the fact that he was trying to make a point and Sam was nothing if not stubborn. He willed himself to concentrate and watch Dean as he shuddered through his orgasm, right there on the bed, not ten feet from his father. But as soon as Dean’s eyes opened and he looked over, Sam shrugged and turned away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean pulled his cooling, sticky hand from his jeans with a grimace. He was certain that was going to work. His resolve was starting to crumble. Despite all the jerking off and cold showers, Dean felt so backed up he would swear he could taste himself in the back of his own throat. He made his way to the bathroom and cleaned himself up before making his way to bed. Sam was reading a book on the couch and gave Dean a nod before he tucked himself into bed. 

 

The next morning, quite possibly the worst thing either of them could think of happened.

 

“Sammy.” John walked by the end of the sofa where Sam had ‘accidentally’ fallen asleep and ruffled his hair. He then walked to the foot of the bed and shook his eldest’s feet. “Dean. Come on boys, up and at ‘em.”

 

“Dad?” Dean came awake quickly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, we just haven’t had any action for a while so I thought you boys should go out for some sparring practice this morning.”

 

If John had taken a look at the faces of his sons he might have wondered just what was going on, but he didn’t and so he missed the look of stricken horror on both of them. Sparring meant touching, and holding and rolling and all kinds of positions way too close to the positions they really wanted to be in. There wouldn’t be any half-assing it either. John was a marine for Christ’s sake. There was no half-assing folding your fucking boxers into your duffel.

 

“Really Dad?” Dean’s voice almost squeaked out of him. “We’re not out of shape.”

 

“Well there’s no point in getting out of shape either. We could be on a long dry spell. Could be here a while. You don’t have any other plans, now do you?”

 

“No sir.” Dean relented. Arguing further would just make matters worse.

 

“All right then, be ready. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with coffee.”

 

Dean turned to look at Sam and couldn’t believe how badly the color had drained from his brother’s face. He had seen dead things with more flush in their cheeks.

 

“Sammy . . .”

 

“I can’t do it Dean.” Sam whispered. “I can’t play this game anymore. This is going to kill me.”

 

For the first time in over three weeks, Dean took his brother in his arms and pulled him close. The words at his ear no longer teasing, but sweet and supportive. “Let’s just get through this Sammy and then we’ll make it right.” He pulled back and looked deep into his brother’s pleading eyes. The need in his brother’s beautiful eyes, not just for sex, but for intimacy, sensuality, love. “I promise.”

 

Sam clenched his jaw and nodded stoically. “Sweat pants?”

 

“Oh fuck yea.” Dean chuckled, at least glad they agreed.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

John didn’t think he’d ever seen his boys looking so miserable together. Or awkward in their moves with each other. They had been doing this for years and should be able to almost dance together and yet their movements were jerky and unpracticed as if this were their first time sparring together. 

 

“What the hell is wrong with you boys?” John started. “Thought you said you weren’t out of shape Dean.” 

 

Dean sat back on his haunches. “Guess I’m just not feeling it today Dad.”

 

“Well maybe you’ll feel it tomorrow, or the next day, or the next because we can drill until the next thing comes along.”

 

Sam groaned from the ground beside Dean. “Let’s just do it, Dean. Let’s get it over with.”

 

Dean glanced at his brother. “You going to be okay?”

 

“I’ll manage.” He smiled weakly as Dean gave him a hand up. “Just don’t rub anything you don’t have to.”

 

“All right,” John directed. “Sam, start again.”

 

Sam grabbed Dean from behind, his right arm down across the chest while his left pulled Dean’s up between their bodies. As much as Sam tried, there was no space in the grapple for him to keep his bulging cock from nestling between the cheeks of Dean’s ass. Dean kicked his left foot back between Sam’s to wind around one of his legs to pull it out from under him, a manoeuvre that did nothing to lessen the pressure on Sam’s cock. A moan escaped the young man as Dean pulled the leg out from under them. Sam landed expertly despite his predicament and Dean proficiently flipped over to pin his brother to the ground.

 

Dean only half heard John’s praise at their ‘finally pulling their heads our of their asses’. He stared into Sam’s eyes, half full of love and admiration, the other half blind lust as their raging cocks pulsed against each other. “Just finish me Dean.” Sam tried to smile. “Let him shoot us, but finish me.”

 

Dean let out a laugh and jumped up, reaching a hand out for his brother. “Soon Sammy, soon.”

 

And then the unthinkable happened.

 

John caught a case.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Two days drive?” Sam keened when Dean told him the bad news.

 

“Sam . . .”

 

“God Dean, just promise me we’re never going to do anything this stupid again.” Sam pleaded. “Like ever.”

 

Dean swooped in for a kiss before John came back for another load. “Never.” Sam kissed back hungrily and then relented almost immediately, realizing that he was only making it harder on himself too.

 

Sam sighed as the Impalla’s horn blew. “All right, let’s just get this over with.” He gave Dean another quick kiss before picking up his duffel and heading for the door. “But the things I’m going to do to you. . .”


	2. The Big Finish

Now that they had decided not to torture each other anymore, there was no way to kiss and make up.

 

There was no Laundromat.

 

There was no handy diner bathroom because there was no diner.

 

John drove straight through. Drive thru food and gas station bathrooms were the best the Winchester boys could look forward to. For the most part, John and Dean split the driving except for dark back roads in the middle of the night when Sam got his turn. Sam didn’t have a license yet even though he’d been driving since he was twelve. 

 

Sam could hardly look at Dean, not that he didn’t want to, that was the infuriating part. All he really wanted to do was look at Dean. But Sam wanted him naked and wanting, not driving this God-forsaken coach across the heartland. He couldn’t take the chance that their eyes would meet, that his desires would get the better of him. Again.

 

When he could get away with it, Dean would stretch his arm up across the back seat and they held hands briefly, Sam lacing their fingers together, but even that was a frustration of sorts. Close, but nowhere close enough.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

At the end of the first day, John got a call from Bobby. The boys could only hear one side of the conversation, but it didn’t take more than that to know that it wasn’t good. 

 

“What do you mean Bobby?”

“Harrisonville and Green Ridge too?”

“Sounds like we’ll be a while.”

“No, I’ll keep them with me this time.”

“Yea, thanks Bob, keep digging though, will you?”

“True enough. Bye.”

 

“What’s wrong Dad?” Sam asked when Dean didn’t. He wasn’t like his brother, couldn’t wait for John to just pass on his info at his own pace.

 

“Well we were coming to investigate some strange disappearances in Warrensburg, but there are similar cases now in Harrisonville and Green Ridge which means it could be something bigger or more sinister than we had originally thought. Might be here longer than I had planned.” Dean groaned. While Warrensburg was a University town, Dean was no longer interested in University girls and the town of less than twenty thousand hardly sounded like a Mecca of activity. “Don’t worry Dean, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of places to get in trouble.”

 

Trouble was, Dean could only think of one.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Once they reached Warrensburg John headed for the first place they always went. Wal-Mart for supplies.

 

As soon as they walked in the main doors they noted the wall of back packs, pens, binders and paper and Sam realized that this game with Dean had distracted him from yet another one of life’s little kicks to the Winchester ‘nads.

 

Back To School

 

“Did you forget Sam?” John asked.

 

“I guess I did sir.”

 

“Get what you need. Cash only Sam, you know the drill.”

 

Any time the Winchesters had to stay in one place for more than a week, they did their best to live on cash, ill gotten or otherwise, because it wouldn’t do to be in the middle of a case and get arrested for credit card fraud. The drill, therefore was no extravagances, no name brands if at all possible, rock bottom prices. Sam had lived his whole life like this and really didn’t mind. Sometimes he didn’t feel like he was in a school long enough for the kids to figure out he was poor.

 

With school supplies, groceries and a top up of toiletries, John found them a by-the-week motel with a kitchenette and started setting up base camp. The three of them worked well in tandem having done it forever as far as Sam remembered. There were great gaping holes on the wall where vital information was needed.

 

Dean sat at the table picking at his fries. Sam sorted through the remaining pieces of paper in the file to look for something missed. John stood looking at the wall, arms crossed, tapping a pen against his chin. “Well boys,” He began. “Looks like I’m going on a field trip.”

 

“What?” Sam asked, too many emotions swirling around to pinpoint which one shoved his voice up an octave. 

 

John gave his youngest a quizzical look but continued undaunted. “I’m going to have to go to the other towns and see what I can find out.” He sat opposite Dean and picked up a few of the fries for himself. “You and Sam stay here and get him registered for school.” Grabbing another fry he rose to start packing his bag.

 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself Dad? I mean, Sam’s old enough to stay on his own for a couple days.” Dean watched his father pack; didn’t dare look at Sam, knew he was breaking his brother’s heart, but he was torn between his desires for Sam and concern for their father. 

 

John smiled. “This ain’t my first rodeo son.” He stopped stuffing things in his duffel and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. You get your brother registered for school and I’ll see you in a few days or I’ll call you for your help.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

The high school wasn’t close to the hotel so John decided to leave them the Impala. Dean ‘found’ him a vehicle that he would lose a town over and ‘find’ another. John packed up what he knew he would need and a few extras and locked it all in the trunk.

 

No one ever said ‘Good-Bye’ in the Winchester family.

 

Once they heard Dad’s engine gun it and pull away, Sam was on Dean like cheap cologne on a streetwalker. 

 

Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that erupted from his chest. He was still pretty anxious about John going off on his own into ‘bigger or more sinister’ by himself, but the look of relief and happiness on Sam’s face lit him up from the inside. “Easy there tiger, Dad’s going to be gone for at least two days.” He cupped Sam’s cheek in his hand, stroking a thumb across his bottom lip. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

 

“I can’t wait Dean,” Sam breathed before his tongue snaked out, wrapping around the available digit to suck it back into his throat. Dean could barely understand the next garbled phrase. “Can’t wait any more.” Dean’s eyes slid shut until Sam released his thumb with a loud pop. Sam took Dean’s face in his hands pulling him into a breath-stealing kiss that honestly made Dean’s knees weak and he knew there would be no awards for duration in the first round. Sam gently directed him backwards until his calves met the bed and he sat Dean on the edge of it. “I really need to taste you.”

 

Dean let out a shuddering breath as Sam pulled the boxers away from his aching cock. Dean didn’t like to admit, even to himself, how easily Sam could reduce him to nothing. It somehow took something away from him to admit how easily Sam could disarm him. He knew that part of it was how his life had been wrapped around Sam from the beginning, but it wasn’t even just that. Sam touched emotions in Dean that no other ever had or, Dean suspected, ever would. Maybe it was that horrible taboo, maybe it was because they were brothers that Dean felt so connected on so many levels. Or maybe it was just because it was Sam, beautiful, smart, annoying, funny, perfect Sam. 

 

Sam pulled the offending boxers away from his prize. It had been far too long with only those few desperate kisses to hold them over. Sam knelt before Dean, lithe hands massaging up solid calves, kneading almost painfully along strong thighs. Dean’s breath was heavy and only getting heavier with every passing anticipatory moment. As Sam continued his rub down, Dean’s thighs parted for him and soft, mewling moans started to pour from the strong hunter’s lips. Sam had a momentary thought to tease Dean about it later but then chided himself for even thinking about any more teasing. He had finally learned his lesson about the effect and he didn’t soon want to forget.

 

He licked a long wet stripe up Dean’s inner thigh and relished the taste and knew he would never do anything to jeopardize this again. Dean’s salty musk exploded on Sam’s tongue and his head swirled with the intoxication of it. Sam dipped his tongue into the beads of pre-come leaking from the slit and Dean cried out. 

 

Not yet, Sam thought and then he reflected, perhaps the teasing wasn’t over just yet.

 

Sam took Dean’s sack between his lips, one sweet plum at a time and completely immersed himself in the scent of Dean. God, he thought, he may have missed this the most. There was something about the heady smells of Dean that drove Sam crazy. 

 

With little warning, Sam licked straight up the bottom of that impossibly hot, impossibly hard cock and swallowed it whole. “Awww, fuck Sammy.” Dean cried out. Sam hollowed his cheeks and pulled off with a loud pop and Dean groaned at the loss. “Baby, what are you doing to me?”

 

Baby again. Sam decided right there that he would do anything Dean ever asked if he just kept calling him baby. Sam swooned a little.

 

“Oh, you like that?” Dean crooned. “You like when I call you baby?”

 

Sam thought of denying it, of trying to go back and salvage some modicum of macho. Instead, he gazed up from Dean’s cock, through the veil of his lashes, lips already puffed and slick with spit, and nodded. Dean was glad he was seated because even sitting down; he felt his knees shake as he shot his first load down his brother’s throat. Dean took his face in his hands pulling Sam off his cock and pulling him into a kiss, his tongue sliding against Sam’s, tasting himself there all mixed in with the sweet, sweet flavors of Sam.

 

“That was too easy.” Sam finally breathed.

 

“It’s been too long.” Dean defended, pulling Sam up to sit beside him. “You want me to suck you too?”

 

Hearing his brother say it, Sam truly considered it. “S-s-stroke me.” Sam managed as Dean was kissing, sucking and nibbling at his neck. “Wanna watch you stroke me, and then you can k-k-keep doing that.”

 

Dean smiled into the skin of Sam’s neck, his nose digging into that little spot behind his ear and breathed deep. “You like when I nibble on ya, don’t you Sam?” Dean crooned as he took his brother in hand.

 

He sucked in his breath in one long slow hiss as he replied. “It’s Sammy.” 

 

Dean’s hand was larger than his and rougher in the palm, which was probably why nothing Sam tried could mimic the feel of his brother bringing him off. Then there was the special twist Dean did when he worked from this position. He stroked straight up the shaft until he was just under the head and then he dropped his wrist so he could rub his thumb over the supersensitive head. Sam cried out the first time, his breath hitching in his throat every other time. On one hand, Sam could sit here all day watching Dean pleasure him while he licked and chewed up his neck, but on the other, Dean was right, it had been far too long and Dean was whispering those things in his ear. 

 

“Oh Baby, waited so long for you.”

“Wanted to do this so many times.” 

“Love how you suck my cock.”

“Missed you so much.”

“Gonna make it so good for you.”

 

Gooseflesh pebbled across Sam’s skin as Dean’s breath whispered across it, his tongue and teeth reaching out for flesh to taste. With one final phrase, Dean sent him over the edge.

 

“The things I’m going to do to you.”

 

Sam gasped as his balls drew up close, hardening with their heavy load and with one final stroke he was coming all over his tummy and Dean’s hand. Dean raised his hand to his mouth and began to lick each of his fingers in turn. There was a low keen from Sam when he watched Dean’s eyes slide shut as he slurped up his brother’s come. 

 

“Aww, Baby,” Dean sighed. “You want some too?” Sam opened his lips and moaned as Dean’s laid his index finger on the flat of his tongue. Sam sucked his finger like he sucked cock and the sensation went straight to Dean’s dick.

 

“Fuck Sammy.” Dean breathed.

 

Sam pulled off and smiled. “Yes please. Fuck your Sammy.”

 

Sam could have kicked him right in the gut and Dean would have had more air than he did after that simple request. Dean tried to think of a response, but couldn’t as every ounce of blood and oxygen went straight to his cock and he was rock hard in seconds. “God Sammy, where did you get that mouth?” Sam just smiled a beautiful smile with those pretty lips and not that Sam would play him or anything, but Dean knew he could. Sam could get anything he wanted with that smile. “Come here.” Dean pulled him into a kiss and they stayed that way for a long moment, cooling down, just being.

 

Dean finally pulled back, Sam’s face in his hands, his thumbs working gentle strokes on Sam’s cheeks. Their eyes locked, Sam’s hazel still too keyed up for any real rational thought other than Dean, more Dean, but he saw something in Dean’s bright green eyes. Were those tears, was Dean building up another emotional whatever-the-fuck because Sam really didn’t want to deal with that right now. What was Dean thinking?

 

“Sammy?” Dean whispered.

 

“Yea Dean.” Sam answered, a little anxiety in his voice. 

 

“Get that ass up here.”

 

Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank God. I thought you were over thinking again.” Sam lay out across the bed on his tummy and Dean was again faced with that which brought the tears to his eyes. Sam was so beautiful. Dean had been with good-looking chicks, but none so much as to bring tears to his eyes and God help him, but sometimes when he looked at Sam he couldn’t help it. 

 

And now with Sam laid out before him, he was struck again by how much he needed this, by how wrong it should be to take this out of your baby brother and by how little he cared. He reached, slowly, tentatively for the pretty round cheeks of Sam’s ass. He caressed them, a little reverently and then squeezed which could have been the switch for Sam’s legs because his knees snapped open as if on springs. 

 

Dean leaned in to lick and nibble at the smooth cheeks all the while his hands continued to make their lazy soothing circles. Sam writhed and moaned under him, the delicious anticipation building low in his tummy. Then Dean’s hand was gone and Sam mewed a little at the loss and was about to turn in protest when he heard it; heard the sexy, slurping sounds of Dean sucking his own thumb. Even though Sam knew the purpose and destination of that thumb he smiled, that Dean would be taking care of him.

 

“You okay Sammy?” Dean soothed his hand up along Sam’s spine. “You ready?”

 

“God Dean,” Sam breathed. “Yes!”

 

Dean pressed on, his thumb massaging lazy circles around Sam’s twitching hole. The need of the last four weeks, three days and eighteen hours (and yes, Sam had counted it out) had Sam drawn tighter than the G-string on Jimmy Page’s Gibson. Every time Dean’s thumb caressed across it, that little muscle twitched for him and it went straight to Dean’s cock. There was a long, drawn out moan from Sam when Dean slowly pushed his thumb past that first ring and rubbed back against the resistance from the inside. 

 

Dean could hardly believe that Sam’s back could bow that far, his head and shoulders right off the bed, but then Sam pushed himself up on bent forearms to give himself the leverage to push back onto Dean. Sam didn’t think much of it when Dean’s other hand stopped it’s soothing circles, but he did spare a look back over his shoulder when he heard Dean slurping around another digit. “Dean?”

 

“Don’t worry Sam,” Dean smiled. “I’m going to take care of you.”

 

With his second thumb alongside the first Dean continued to massage and stretch his brother out to take him, but not yet. Dean had something special planned. Over the last four weeks or so, every time he had thought of getting his brother alone, he could see this moment. Every time he imagined this scene taking shape Dean had become impossibly hard and apparently today was no different. 

 

Dean pried Sam’s cheeks apart just enough so that he could get a bit closer. He had always looked at Sam’s opening as just the perfect place to put his cock, but then he remembered how it had twitched and jumped of its own accord when he first touched it and he knew just how many nerves were all bundled up here. It didn’t surprise him to hear Sam cry out when his tongue skipped across the opening.

 

“Dean! Fuck!”

 

The taste was musky and dark and not entirely unpleasant so Dean lapped out again, his tongue swirling just a little inside the tight, pink ring. He smiled to himself at Sam’s physical and audible reactions, only spurring him on to greater depths and soon Dean’s tongue was fucking in and out of Sam’s tight little opening just as intended his cock to be later. 

 

Sam had thought he was ready for anything that Dean might throw his way, but when that wet tongue met with Sam’s hot, wanting opening it was almost too much. And then the whole of his tongue slipped inside him and Sam couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure. Sam had never felt anything like it as it felt like every nerve ending in his body was suddenly connected to his asshole and Dean’s tongue. If he could actually think he might have1 found it hard to believe how hard his prick was with no direct stimulation, but since his upper brain functions were absent, this thought never crossed his mind. 

 

Dean, on the other hand, was painfully aware of how hard his dick was and didn’t know how much longer he could hold off, but Sam’s pleasure was such a turn on that he could hardly face stopping either. Finally after another eternity during which Sam’s vocalizations had deteriorated to soft mewling and rapid pants, Dean pulled back and rolled his brother over on to his back. 

 

Sam wanted to protest the loss but then his eyes met Dean’s and he could hardly remember why he wasn’t looking in them all along. They stared at each other for a long moment before Sam reached up pulling Dean down into a kiss. Dean tried to pull back, remembering full well where his mouth had just been, but Sam wouldn’t let go. His tongue lapped and swirled around Dean’s, tasting himself there and loving every minute that Dean did these amazing things for him. Somewhere in the distance he heard the cap of the bottle open, yet he was still surprised when Dean’s raging cock breached the first ring of little resistance. Sam’s back arched off the bed pressing his hardness into Dean’s belly. Dean gasped at that even as he pushed further into Sam’s tight heat. It was hard for Dean to pin down what was sexier, the steady stream of moans and encouragements or when Sam went completely silent, his face frozen in that ‘o’ of discomfort while he waited for the moment of ecstasy. He took Sam’s erection in his hand and with a few lazy strokes took Sam’s mind right off the momentary pain. Sam moaned long and low in his throat.

 

“Fuck, I love you.”

 

Dean smiled down on him as he was fully sheathed in Sam’s tight heat. “Not as much as I love you Baby.” 

 

They stayed there, eyes locked; it seemed as if each were waiting for the other to say something deep and personal, but no tender words came. “Then move your ass and fuck me for Christ’s sake.” Sam finally growled.

 

Dean grinned, pulling out until only the head remained before slamming back into Sam. “God, you can be such a bitch.”

 

Sam gasped as Dean hit that amazing bundle of nerves deep inside and replied a little breathlessly. “Yea, and you love it, jerk.”

 

“Yea?” Dean started, his tone suggesting that he was going to throw out some witty banter but then he registered the blissed out expression in Sam’s eyes and he relented. He slowed his pace enough to gentle, what he had to face could always be the last time for a while. “Yea Sammy, I do.”

 

They were going to have to have a conversation, no matter how chick flicky it might be for Dean, and set the boundaries between brothers and this relationship. It was so easy for them to just fall into that antagonistic brother relationship, like the teasing, the witty comebacks, much harder for them to be lovers in the true sense. And even as he slammed into him, hitting the right spot over and over, even as Sam cried out screaming a litany of curse words as well as Dean’s name, Dean knew that it was the ‘intimate relationship’ that Sam needed. And if Dean were to admit what he knew, just thinking about the ‘intimate relationship’ with Sam made his balls tighten up and he knew he was going to come again thinking about how much he loved the beautiful man beneath him.

 

“Fuck Dean, I’m gonna come.” 

 

And with that declaration, Dean was right there with him and as Sam’s seed pulsed all over Dean’s hand, his channel spasmed around Dean and he came right after, coating Sam’s insides with a river of his scorching come.

 

Dean stayed where he was for a moment, just watching Sam come down from his orgasm, from the end of their drought and he marveled one more time at just how much, “I love you Sammy.” He lay down across the length of Sam’s widening chest.

 

Sam grimaced and groaned a bit at Dean squishing and spreading his jizz all over his belly between them. But for some reason, instead of taking the little brother road and making a big gross deal about it, Sam ran his hand across Dean’s hair and placed a loving kiss on his crown. Somehow, Sam knew that there was a turning point taking place here and while he didn’t think he had the conversation skills to get into it right now, he didn’t want to ruin the moment either.

 

“Yea Dean.” Sam caressed down his back as both their eyes slid shut, simply content to remain in each other’s arms for eternity. “I love you too.”


End file.
